


Favorites

by anotherwinchesterfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, GIEPP, Girl In Every Port Project, Mild Language, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4432961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherwinchesterfangirl/pseuds/anotherwinchesterfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader is a college professor that occasionally helps out the Winchesters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Favorites

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the July round of the Girl in Every Port Project, my prompt was "a hunter contact."

You were just taking a stretch break from grading essays when your phone rang. You glanced at the clock—it was 1:00 am. Who would be calling you right now? You grabbed your phone, but almost dropped it when you saw the name displayed on the screen. Your stomach jolted as memories flashed through your mind—large hands skimming across your body, hot breath on your ear, discarded clothes in a pile on the floor, a head of messy long hair buried between your thighs. You took a deep breath, slid your thumb across the screen to accept the call, and brought the phone to your ear.

“Sam?”

“Y/N! Hi, how are you?”

“I’m doing okay. How are you? Why are you calling me at one in the morning?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, sorry about that. You weren’t sleeping, were you?”

“What? No, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just grading. Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just need your help on something.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

You got up from your dining room table and headed toward the den, where you kept most of your lore and mythology books. You’d helped the Winchesters out before and knew they probably needed you to look up information for a case they were working on. You’d grown up in a family of hunters and had your doctorate in Mythology and Ancient Languages. You taught at the local university, but you were still in touch with the network of hunters that worked across the midwest, and you were often called upon for your extensive knowledge on lore and languages.

As Sam described the monster they were hunting, you dropped to the floor beside your bookcase, peering at the titles on the bottom shelf. You pulled a huge, dusty volume into your lap and began flipping pages. You savored the sound of his voice; it had been a long time since you’d last spoken to him. You could imagine him in the passenger seat of the impala, long legs folded into the footwell and knees splayed wide, holding the phone to his ear with a serious look on his face as he spoke, brow a little furrowed and creases in his forehead. You inwardly sighed a little and forced yourself back to reality so you could focus on what he needed.

“So it seems to take different forms, and it’s hunting children?” You balanced the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you skimmed the index, looking for anything helpful.

“Yes. Three kids have gone missing and all seem to have played at the same park within the past week. They disappear from their rooms at night without a trace, no signs of breaking or entering, no disturbance or anything. Just poof, gone.”

“Well… I know this sounds weird, Sam, but I think it’s…a boogeyman.”

“A boogeyman. Like monster under your bed boogeyman? I, uh…I didn’t know that was a thing.”

“Yeah, it is actually. They can change their appearance into whatever the child most fears. That’s kind of where the monster under your bed or in your closet myths come from. Anyway, they feed on fear and kidnap children and eventually…” You flipped a few more pages. “Eat their souls”

“Sounds scary. How do we kill it?”

“Well…I don’t think it can be killed. But there is a banishing spell.”

“Okay, give it to me.”

You read the spell to Sam slowly and had him repeat it back to you, making sure he got the correct pronunciation.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“No problem; that’s what I’m here for. Be careful, okay? It looks like these guys can be pretty dangerous. They prefer children, but they’ll take souls in self defense too. I don’t want you to be soulless next time I see you.”

“I’ve tried that once, and I never plan on doing that again. We got this, Y/N. Don’t worry.”

“Give me a call after you gank the sucker to let me know you’re okay.”

“I will.” His voice was low and a little rough; he sounded tired.

“Alright. Tell Dean I said hi. See you soon?” You couldn’t keep the note of hope out of your voice.

“Yes. I’ll see you soon. Promise.”

 

* * *

 

You were on pins and needle all through your classes the next day, waiting to hear from Sam or Dean, letting you know that they were okay. You pretty much lived your life with a constant buzz of worry in whatever you did because you worked with so many hunters, and you were always worried that something would happen to one of them. But with the Winchesters, it was different. They meant more to you; they were your favorites. They’d crashed at your place the couple of times they were in town, catching up over beers and home-grilled burgers while they waited for their laundry to be done. Chatting and laughing until early morning when they would finally fall into bed, Dean on the pull out couch and Sam on an air mattress on the floor. Until Sam stopped sleeping on the floor and started sleeping in your bed. Though they were very few and far between, the mornings that you had gotten to wake up with Sam’s arm heavily draped around you, his breath lightly tickling your ear, those mornings were your favorites.

You would never let them know, but you always worried about them. How could you not? The baddest of the bad always seemed to find them, and they could be terribly wild and reckless sometimes. But you would take them when you could get them and always answer the phone when they called, mother them a little when you had the chance, make sure they were doing okay, and then send back out on the road.

You found yourself checking your phone every chance you had that day, hoping for at least a text message, but you got nothing. Eventually realizing that it was probably more about missing them than real fear for their safety (you knew they could handle themselves, they were good at what they did), you tossed your phone on your desk and refused to look at it for the rest of the day.

When you got home, you felt anxious and irritable. You kicked off your pumps and left them sitting in the hall, stripped off your cardigan and dropped it onto a chair, and tossed your bag and keys onto the kitchen counter. You threw together a quick dinner and sat at your dining room table to once again work on grading essays, even though you knew you wouldn’t be able to focus.

The first time you heard the knock you thought you were imagining things. But then it came again, and you got up to check the door warily. Nobody ever came to your apartment, especially not at this time of night. But when you saw a flannel clad shoulder through the peephole your heart leapt, and you flung the door open and threw yourself at him.

“I was so worried! Why didn’t you call me?”

“What? I’m sorry.” He wrapped one arm around your shoulders and clutched the back of your head with his other hand. His shirt was soft and warm against your cheek. “After hearing your voice, I just…had to see you.”

You pulled back and looked up into his face; those intense hazel eyes that looked more green then blue today were just as disarming as ever. He smiled his perfect smile and looked down at you, raising his eyebrows slightly. Your stomach jittered.

“Where’s Dean? Can you guys stay for a night?”

“Dean’s at the bar. He got a motel room.”

You didn’t get the chance to respond to that because Sam was cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips on yours eagerly and almost desperately. You opened your mouth to his tongue, and the kiss teetered on frantic, his lower jaw thrust forward, fingers gripping into the back of your hair, noses squished together. You clung to the front of his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to the planet and pushed your hips forward into his thighs. He pushed right back, backing you up into the foyer and kicking the door shut behind him. As soon as the latch clicked, he leaned forward and lifted you under the backs of your thighs, pushing up your skirt until your legs could wrap around his waist. You could feel his erection straining against his jeans, pressing against you, and you gasped. You felt Sam smile against your lips as he headed toward the bedroom.

“I’m _so_ happy to see you,” he said, almost laughing.

“I can tell,” you replied with a giggle. “I missed you.”

“ _God_ , I missed you too.” He squeezed your ass with both hands as if to reiterate his point.

He dropped you on the edge of the unmade bed, and you bounced on the mattress as he knelt in front of you and ran his hands up your bare legs. He followed his hands with his mouth, dragging his lips over every inch of skin that he could. After one chaste kiss through your underwear, he crawled up onto the bed and pressed his lips to yours again, pushing you onto your back. Long fingers slid up under your shirt and around your back to unclasp your bra, and soon bra and shirt together were tossed to the floor. His lips trailed down over your jaw and down your neck to your chest, over your breast. You sucked in a breath as jolts of pleasure hummed down your body, meeting Sam’s hand where it was inside your panties. Your head fell back and your eyes squeezed shut.

You moaned his name and reached up and undid the button on his jeans, desperate to feel him. Before pushing his jeans down, you checked his back right pocket for a condom—you knew that’s where he usually stowed them—and pulled one out. Sam stood to remove his pants, and your skin prickled with goosebumps where his hands and lips had been. You kicked your panties to the floor and grabbed Sam by the wrist and tugged him back to you; your skirt was still bunched up around your waist, but you didn’t bother.

You cried out a little when he slid into you, and he ran his fingers down your arm to your hand, tangling his fingers with yours and giving it a squeeze.

“Okay?” he murmured, and you nodded.

Then you were moving together, gasping and shaking. You came apart under him, and he buried his face in your hair, letting out a low shuddering _fuck_ next to your ear. You decided that was your new favorite sound.

 

* * *

 

The next morning definitely made your list of all time favorite mornings. You woke to Sam’s hands skimming over your bare stomach and breasts, his lips dotting hot wet kisses down your neck and shoulder. By the time you opened your eyes, you were already wet and gasping, and you wiggled backwards pushing your ass against him, and he groaned in your ear. Afterward, you pulled on some sweats and blearily made your way to the kitchen, Sam close behind, his fingers skimming the small of your back. You caught up over steaming mugs of black coffee—he told you about the cases they’d worked lately, leaving out the most gruesome parts, and you told him about the research you were doing for an article you were working on. Dean sauntered in around ten, looking like he’d had a night of pleasure himself, and he bear hugged you, lifting you off your feet a little. You cooked eggs and bacon and toast and blueberry pancakes, and it was all gone within an hour.

But eventually, the had to leave, like always. Sam gave you a long hug and a lingering kiss before they left, and you watched the taillights of the impala out your front window until you couldn’t see them anymore.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments are always appreciated! :)


End file.
